


Magnetism

by LoveActuallyFan



Series: Unification [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gratuitous Feasting, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Seductive Bathing, Seductive Legolas, Strawberry Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/pseuds/LoveActuallyFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The prince’s time away had allowed him to gain clarity on some feelings that were too addled and distorted by his father’s constant presence. Legolas had had to mature quickly, alone and away from everything he’d ever known. He’d returned with one goal and one goal only – torment the king until he had no choice but to give in.  </p>
<p>The prince smirked smugly; he knew just how to begin.'  </p>
<p>  <i>Sequel to Gravity, but can be read separately if you're into fluffy/angst-y/slutty Legolas. Who isn't, though? :)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capacitance

**Author's Note:**

> **Hello there everybody.**
> 
> I return bringing presents :)  
> Here is the sequel to _Gravity_ that I promised (#sequelpromise)  
>  Haha.  
> Thank you all very much for your lovely comments and encouragement on _Gravity_ , I hope this meets your expectations. It will be another 3 part-er and is more fluffy angst than my last piece. Also, thank you to everyone who suggested some ideas for AU Thrandolas, I am very inspired and shall begin exploring the ideas soon.
> 
> Enjoy x

Legolas let out a low, measured breath as he drew the bowstring back. Taking aim down the shaft of the arrow that sat notched in his bow, the prince took his time, centring his aim on the target at the other end of the practice range. Legolas’ lips twitched upwards into the hint of a smile as he let the arrow fly, knowing before he’d loosed it that it would find its mark. The arrow found the target, dead centre, before burying itself nearly to the fletching. The prince let his lips form a brief full smile, before he notched another arrow.

Thranduil’s expression was more frosty than usual as he watched his son from a high balcony in the palace. Legolas had spent nearly the entire afternoon practicing his archery skills in the small range within the palace grounds. The king had spent nearly the entire afternoon observing him from afar. Thranduil’s eyes followed his son’s every move. He had truly become a skilled archer, the best the king had seen in his long life. His honed skills were not the only thing that was different about his son, yet the king could not precisely put his finger on what it was. Perhaps he moved differently, he’d had different training in Imladris no doubt. Perhaps it was the clothes he wore, more embellished than what he had usually worn before leaving Mirkwood. It could be his hair, which he now wore in a long braid down the middle with two smaller ones either side of his head. While the aesthetics of the prince were indeed different, there was something in his presence that did not feel the same. 

The king had sensed it immediately when his son had returned to Mirkwood earlier that morning, heading straight to the king’s throne to be formally welcomed by his father. He had observed all the correct procedure, bowed deeply, said suitable words. Thranduil had been equally as formal and correct in welcoming his son home. When Legolas had arisen from his bow, though, Thranduil had visibly flinched. The king had recovered quickly, schooling his features into his usual nonchalance, perhaps only Galion had noticed his lord’s surprise. Thranduil was still surprised in this very moment as he looked out at the prince. When Legolas had met his eyes, there was something different in them. Or maybe something was missing from them?

Thranduil had mused on the change in his son for most of the day. He should have expected nothing different; Legolas had been away for three years, a fair amount of time for one so young. It was inevitable that the prince would grow and change. Though he didn’t expect it, Thranduil was mildly surprised when his son did not bother to bid him a private welcome, as there was no tradition dictating it. He supposed Legolas would be reacquainting himself with the palace and old friends. This did not prevent the king from searching for the prince, eventually finding him at the archery range. 

Thranduil watched his son as he patiently notched arrow after arrow, completely saturating his target in shafts. It was some time before Legolas took a break and motioned to an elven guard standing at one of the entrances to the palace. The elf made his way quickly to the prince, bowing before listening intently and hurrying off back into the palace. Thranduil quirked an eyebrow and resumed his intense study of the prince’s archery technique.

The king was pulled from his musings as Galion appeared on the balcony beside him. Thranduil dragged his eyes away from the form of his son before looking expectantly at his manservant.

“Prince Legolas asks that you join him down on the range, my Lord,” Galion hesitated in adding the next part, “Unless you find it more pleasant to continue watching him from afar, he says.” 

Thranduil’s jaw nearly dropped, and Galion cringed away from his king at the murderous look that flashed across Thranduil’s face at the utter audacity of his son. The king narrowed his eyes at Galion, half-prepared to launch into a bad-tempered tirade. Thinking better of it, Thranduil bottled his anger and gave Galion a curt nod before sweeping past the relieved manservant. The king made his way through his halls quickly, every step closer to the prince fuelling his anger at being summoned by his own son. As he stepped out into the fading afternoon light of the range, his anger faltered. 

As he had been sweeping through the corridors, Legolas had obviously decided that the exertion of archery practice warranted that he remove his tunic. The prince was left in only his black boots and brown leggings, his tunic lying crumpled on the ground. Thranduil took deep, measured breaths as he approached his son, who had resumed his target practice. Legolas’ pale elven skin glowed in the soft orange and red tones the sunset threw onto him. The prince was standing tall; his bow pulled taught, eyes searching out his target, when the king reached him.

“Am I now to be summoned by my son?” Thranduil asked, his anger much lessened but still pervasive.

Legolas smiled slightly before allowing his arrow to fly into the target on which he was barely concentrating. He dropped his bow arm, turning smoothly to face his father.

“My Lord, you’re angry,” he began, holding the king’s gaze oddly, “I should have come to bid my welcome in private, my apologies, I was just glad to be back in Mirkwood and completely forgot my manners,”

Thranduil was momentarily dumbfounded when confronted with his son’s words. The king’s brow knit together and he tried to stare his son down instead of answering him. The prince only smiled and notched another arrow, turning away from his father. 

“There is to be a feast tonight, to celebrate my return?” Legolas asked while taking aim. Thranduil’s brow knit even further.

“Yes, Legolas, of course there will be,”  
The prince grinned letting the arrow fly. Thranduil watched as the unerring prince hit his target once again.

“You are truly a great archer, ion-nín,” Thranduil exclaimed. 

Legolas’ smile seemed to falter at the endearment that his father used, though it could just have been the fading light playing tricks with the shadows on his face. The prince turned to face his father once more.

“I had many hours to practice while I was away,” he explained, slinging the bow over one arm. The bowstring dug into the pristine flesh of his chest, rippling his muscles. 

Thranduil averted his eyes from those of his son’s before saying, “You were happy there, though, you… you seem well,”

Legolas’ gaze did not waver, “It was… difficult, at first, but I soon adapted. I am only curious to know why you have sent for me to return home after all this time. I expected to be banished for at least one hundred more years,”

Thranduil’s eyes flicked up to his son’s steely grey eyes, he never remembered them being that shade before.

“You were never banished, Legolas,”

The edges of Legolas’ lips quirked upwards, “I was free to return here all this time?”

Thranduil glared at his son in silence. Legolas smiled fully, before bending down to pick up his discarded tunic.

“It was good for me, being away. You were right, my Lord, the distance enabled me to have perspective on my existence in Mirkwood, and my choices,”

Thranduil watched as his son smoothed out the rich fabric of the tunic and tossed the garment of his shoulder.

The prince fixed his father with an unnaturally happy smile, before saying, “I should ready myself for the feast, I shall see you there,”

Legolas made to move past his father, but Thranduil caught his arm, dragging the young elf backwards slightly. 

“Legolas,” he began, unsure of why he had stopped the prince from leaving. 

Legolas looked up at his father, his eyes a swirl of strange emotions that Thranduil could not identify, “Yes, my Lord?”

Thranduil’s words stuck in his throat. His son seemed to, after all this time, be free of him. How could he explain why he had had to summon him back to Mirkwood? How could he put in to words that since the moment the prince had left, the king had begun to fade? Legolas seemed so different from the wary elfling he was when Thranduil had sent him away; he seemed to have moved on from his youthful missteps. How could the millennia old king tell his beautiful son that he had fallen completely in love with him? That every second that he had been away had cut into Thranduil’s fëa like a knife while his son had seemed to be unaffected by their separation.

The king had tried to deny his feelings for the first few months; he’d tried to chase away the longing, the desperate loneliness. After the first year, Galion began to notice that his king was not well. Thranduil appeared drawn, distracted, dulled. After the second year, the whispers had started. Elves did not get sick; elves did not wither away for no apparent reason. It was obvious that a severe malady of the mind affected the king. It had taken another year of badgering by Galion before the king finally admitted that he would eventually die if steps were not taken to prevent it. He had sent for Legolas the next day and had begun to recover as soon as the prince had replied in the affirmative that he would return. If Galion had suspicions about his king and prince, he had had the good sense not to broach the matter.

Now, as Thranduil stared into the eyes of the elf that he literally could not live without, he could not bring himself to destroy the life Legolas had so obviously built for himself away from his father.

The king smiled sadly down at his son before saying, “I am glad to have you home, ion-nín,”

Legolas searched his father’s eyes for a moment, seeking answers, before he breathed, “I am glad to be home, Adar,”

The prince rose on to his toes, reaching upwards. Thranduil’s face registered surprise as his son drew close to him, but he did not draw away. Legolas gripped the arm holding him tightly, using it to steady himself as he leaned upwards and place a small, soft kiss on his father’s cheek. Thranduil’s heart flooded with warmth as he felt his son’s lips press on to his skin. For the first time in three years Thranduil felt as though his chest was not weighed down, and he could breathe freely once more. Bright sunlight invaded the troubled king’s mind, chasing away the darkness festering within his fëa. 

As Legolas pulled away, his father’s heavy depression fell down across the king’s shoulders once more. The prince gazed up at his father for what seemed like an eternity, before gently extracting himself from Thranduil’s grip and making his way into the palace, his expression troubled. As the prince drew further away from his father, his resolve returned, and his mind focused back in on his task. He wouldn’t let his father get away with what he had done so easily, even if his eyes had held apparent remorse. The prince’s time away had allowed him to gain clarity on some feelings that were too addled and distorted by his father’s constant presence. Legolas had had to mature quickly, alone and away from everything he’d ever known. He’d returned with one goal and one goal only – torment the king until he had no choice but to give in. 

The prince smirked smugly; he knew just how to begin.


	2. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The company was also incomparable,” The prince continued, biting into the juicy fruit slowly and licking his lips suggestively, “I missed having elves of my own age to… socialise with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, hello**
> 
> Here is the penultimate chapter of this series :) Thanks to everyone who left such nice and encouraging comments to the last chapter, it is much appreciated. Thanks to all who left kudos also, it's always wonderful to get those.
> 
> Enjoy x

Thranduil felt a terrible sense of déjà vu as he sat staring at his breakfast the next morning. Once again, his son had not availed himself to breakfast with his father. The king delicately pressed his long fingers to his temples; his head was pounding and his left eye twitched uncomfortably. The feast had been an enthusiastic welcoming home of the prince and every elf had overindulged. The entire carafe of Dorwinion that he had polished off by himself, alone in his chambers after the festivities, made Thranduil’s hangover much worse. 

Thranduil shut his eyes to the world, trying to alleviate the steady drumming inside his head. His heavy brows twitched in pain, not only physical, but the king could not get the image of his son at the feast out of his troubled mind. It was usual that Thranduil did not socialise much with any elves at a celebration, he took his seat at the head of the table and watched over the goings-on in a rather detached manner. It was how he preferred it. But he was mildly affronted that his son had not even looked over at his father since the feast had begun. In fact, the prince seemed enthralled by a slender blonde ellon to whom he was explaining some facet of Imladris. By the end of the evening, his son had been openly flirting with the ellon, who had unsurprisingly been enchanted by his beautiful prince. Thranduil had excused himself to find the flask of Dorwinion not long after. 

Thranduil was jolted from his musings by the door to his private dining hall banging open. His eyebrows quirked upwards as Legolas entered; seemingly in high spirits. Galion trailed after the prince, enquiring over what he would like for breakfast. The prince sat himself opposite his father, plucking a few grapes from a large bowl.

“Good morning, Adar,” he smiled disarmingly at the king, “How are you this morning?”

Thranduil gradually lowered his hands from his temples, folding his arms in front of himself.

“Not as well as you are, it seems,” the king said. Legolas looked incredibly unaffected by the amount of wine he’d consumed the night before. 

The prince smirked before thanking Galion for the breakfast he’d laid in front of him. He grasped a large, plump strawberry from the plate and placed it against his lips before murmuring, “I had an exceptional night. I had forgotten how exuberant Mirkwood feasts could be. At Imladris they are much less partial to wine.”

Thranduil raised a disinterested eyebrow, before focusing on his own food, trying to avert his eyes from the way his son’s lips parted around the bright red strawberry. 

“The company was also incomparable,” The prince continued, biting into the juicy fruit slowly and licking his lips suggestively, “I missed having elves of my own age to… socialise with.”

Thranduil set his jaw and fixed his son with a disapproving glare that would have turned even the most reckless of elves into a quivering puddle of nerves. Not Legolas, though. He only grinned back at his father before searching for another appropriate strawberry from the pile in front of him. The king’s eyes widened as his son plucked a huge, blood-red strawberry from the pile and gracefully stretched his lips around it.

“You left the feast early, Adar,” Legolas said nonchalantly after swallowing his mouthful, “Were you feeling unwell?”

“Legolas…” Thranduil warned. 

The prince’s face was the picture of innocence as he said, “I think I shall head to the hot springs after breakfast, I have missed the woodlands. Some ellyn were speaking about taking the waters last night, perhaps they’d like to join me?”

A million different scenarios tore through the king’s mind and he hastily rose from the table, eyes avoiding his son’s. Legolas ***ed his head at his father’s sudden action.

“Are you alright, Adar?”

Thranduil forced a tight smile onto his face before replying, “I am quite well, I must attend to my duties,” The king moved to exit the dining hall. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, ion,” he said. Legolas watched his father go with a slight smirk on his lips. He sighed deeply before continuing his breakfast alone.

§§§

Legolas had known that his father would follow him. The hint that he had given that he would be bathing naked with other elves would have been more than enough to make the king jealous. So as Legolas sat, completely naked, in the bubbling waters of the hot springs, a small smile graced his lips. His father had been careful, but his heightened elven senses had detected the presence of another.

Legolas had not invited anyone else. He sat alone in small pool, steam rising around him and curling into the fine mid-afternoon air. While he’d wanted to torture his father, he had no time for any other elves, ellith or ellyn. While he’d flirted outrageously with many the night before, as soon as his father had departed he’d become bored with the company and had headed to his chambers for an early night, planning the machinations he would be implementing the next day. 

The prince stretched his arms languidly, rolling his neck a few times before slowly raising a hand to his shoulder. He began massaging the muscles there with an unhurried fluidity, working out all of the tension from the previous day’s archery practice. He’d spent much too long shooting arrows, trying to taunt his father, and his muscles were tense. He finished working one shoulder and moved to the next, making sure to put on a show for his father, who he could sense lingering in the shadows. After he’d worked out much of the tension in his shoulders, the prince rose from his seated position, standing thigh high in the water. He began smearing himself in the exfoliating mud that surrounded the pools, working the nourishing substance into the skin of first his arms, then his chest and torso. His eyes fluttered shut and he made sure to moan a little too loudly as he rubbed himself thoroughly. Every so often, the prince’s hand would slide too far down his stomach, brushing at the tops of his thighs and the base of his member. He made sure to angle himself so as to be in full view of the eyes that watched him from the shadows. 

Once he’d finished massaging every inch of his upper body, the prince waded deeper into the pool, washing away the excess mud from his body, leaving his skin soft and supple. He was about to stretch himself out on the edge of the pool and begin tending to his lower half, when he noticed that the presence he’d sensed watching him had vanished. The prince’s brow furrowed in confusion and he turned, scanning the trees along the edge of the clearing in which the hot springs were located. His father had indeed left. Legolas heaved a disbelieving sigh before sinking back into the waters, he had felt sure that such an open display would entice his father, especially as they were alone. He would have to think of something else. 

Thranduil’s heart was pounding in his ears as he wound his way back through the woods and back to his palace. He hadn’t been sure at first, but now he was certain that Legolas was toying with him deliberately. He’d purposely provoked him by mentioning that he would be bathing with other ellyn, and then had put on a sensual show for his father with not another elf in sight. The king was still half hard when he made it back to the palace. His mind was scattered and his thoughts muddled as he swept through the long stone corridors, panting heavily. It seemed that he no longer knew who his son was. The Legolas he knew would never have played such a despicable game with someone he’d loved. He knew that the young prince was angry with him for sending him away, but the sheer contempt that he must feel to play with the king in such a way made Thranduil’s heart fracture. The king veered away from slinking back into his chambers, he couldn’t face the emptiness of his bedchamber. Instead, he headed towards the library, intending to bury himself in an old tome.

§§§

Legolas was still damp from the water when he re-entered the palace from the woods. The prince was lost in thought about how best he could torture his father further, when he ran straight in to Galion, nearly causing the manservant to topple over. Legolas began making his apologies, helping Galion to steady himself.

“No need to apologise, my Lord,” Galion straightened himself out, while eyeing the prince’s dampened state questioningly. 

“The hot springs,” Legolas offered by way of an explanation for his appearance and Galion nodded.

“The waters are particularly fine at this time of year,” the manservant said, smiling at the prince. Legolas gave a curt nod, before moving to carry on his journey.

“I am glad you are home, my Lord,” Galion said, quite seriously, and Legolas turned, his brow knit.

“Thank you, Galion, I am glad to be home,” the prince said, perplexed at the look of intense consternation on his father’s manservant’s face.

“I assure you that I tried to reason with the king for over a year to remedy the situation, but he refused until now,” Galion explained, clasping his hands together. 

Legolas’ face contorted into a frown of confusion, “The situation?” he asked. 

Galion began to speak, but then stopped, sensing that he’d broached a subject that the prince was not privy to. He backed away a few steps from the prince. The manservant shook his head, flustered, “Uh, the… the… when….”

Legolas raised an eyebrow at the bumbling servant before fixing him with an icy stare that his father would have been proud of.

“Galion,” he said lowly, “To what situation are you referring?”

Galion looked to his feet for a moment before looking back at his prince, regretting having opened his mouth. He sighed, defeated and unable to see a way of backtracking from the mistake he’d made.

The manservant dropped his voice to a low whisper, “The king, he did not tell you?”

Legolas raised his eyebrows in a gesture of obvious annoyance, “Galion,” he commanded.

Galion grimaced before saying; “Your father was… he was unwell, while you were away,”

Legolas blanched at the words, “Unwell? We do not get sick, Galion, what are you saying?”

“He was… fading, my Lord. Before he sent for you he could barely leave his bedchamber and he slept most of the day. He could not eat much and hadn’t held court in over a year, ”

Legolas could only stare at Galion in disbelief. The manservant wrung his hands, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, my Lord, I did not know that your father wished to keep it from you,”

Legolas’ frown deepened and he shook his head at Galion, “It is alright, Galion, you did the right thing in telling me,” he said absently.

The manservant eyed the prince warily, “My lord?”

Legolas looked up, he’d been completely consumed in thought. “Thank you, that will be all,” he said, before adding, “Do you know where my father is?”

“The library, I believe,”

Legolas nodded and spun around, leaving Galion in his wake as he darted off towards the library, his emotions becoming more tangled and desperate with every step he took. Eventually, he had become so upset at what Galion had said, he burst into the library, still wet front the hot springs and looking dishevelled. 

There were not many elves in the cavernous repository, but all of them stopped to stare at the prince as he stood, breathing heavily in the doorway. Thranduil, seated at the far end of the room, looked up to see who had flung the door open. His eyes met his son’s own tumultuous ones from across the room and he sensed that something had happened. Legolas did not move from the doorway and glared at his father in silence, until the startled elves around him noticed the interaction between father and son, and hastily made their exit. 

Once they were alone, Legolas stalked across the room, his eyes never leaving his father’s icy stare.

“You’re wet,” the king said nonchalantly, eyeing his son. Legolas stopped just short of his seated father, his jaw twitching in a mixture of anger, hurt and betrayal.

“You… You were fading?” the prince ground out, clenching his fists at his side. Thranduil did not answer, and merely held his son’s gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Legolas raised his voice, anger getting the better of him. Thranduil lowered his eyes, before shutting them and resting his forehead on his hand.

“What if you had died while I was away?” Legolas’ voice had begun to take on a shrill tone, “What would I have… What would I have done?”

The prince stared incredulously at his father, who did not move. Slowly, a question that had been pressing at the back of Legolas’ mind began to demand an answer. The prince swallowed hard before asking, “Were you fading because of me?”

The king looked up at that, his eyes boring into his son’s, “Of course I was fading because of you!”

Legolas took a step back from his father, “Well… Why didn’t you send for me sooner? Why keep us apart for three years?” he demanded. 

Thranduil grit his teeth as he said, “Because I could not admit to myself that I had fallen in love with my own son!”

Legolas’ anger evaporated instantaneously and his eyes widened. His breaths came in short gasps and he felt the tell-tale prickle of tears behind his eyes. 

“Ada…” was all the prince could force out, before his throat was choked with a sob that flew out of his mouth. Thranduil stood slowly, his eyes filling with the unshed tears he’d held back for three years.

“I am glad you are free of me, ion-nín, because I don’t believe you could still love me and torture me as you have been,” the king said, his voice cracking mid-way through.

Legolas could barely see through the haze of tears that had filled his eyes, yet he could still make out the tall shape of his father. Stumbling towards him, he grasped the king’s robes at the chest, pulling his father towards himself. He reached up as he had done all those years ago, his lips seeking out his father’s. They met in a ghost of a kiss, a soft, tender press of lips that left both trembling visibly when they broke apart.

“Goheno nín, Ada. Gi melin,” Legolas managed to say, trying to steady his breathing, “Goheno nín…”

Thranduil clasped his son’s cheeks in his large hands, brushing away the tears that had begun to find their way down the prince’s face, “Goheno nín, ‘Las, I should never have sent you away. I should never have tried to deny this,” The king broke off, leaning down to capture his son’s lips in another kiss, this one deeper and filled with an insatiable longing. The prince moaned into his father’s mouth, his hands wrapping their way around the king. He could not get close enough to his father, after all the years apart, it was all he could do to prevent himself from trying to crawl right into the elf. His father seemed in much of the same position, his hands migrating from the prince’s cheeks to his hair, pulling his son’s mouth against his own with force. 

Legolas was surprised when his father broke their kiss abruptly, holding the prince away from himself. Momentary terror gripped Legolas, the action reminding him of the rejection he’d suffered from the elf that held his heart.

“No,” his father whispered, his voice gravelly with desire, “Not here,”

Legolas’ brow crinkled sweetly and he looked around, he’d completely forgotten where they were. Thranduil smiled down at his son, before taking his hand and winding their fingers together.

“Come,” he whispered into Legolas’ ear, leading the prince out of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ion = Son  
> Adar/Ada = Father/Dad  
> Ellon/Ellyn = Male Elf/Elves  
> Goheno nín = Forgive me  
> Gi melin = I love you
> 
> Okay, so I couldn't torture Thranduil too long, it made me too sad :( So, you can probably guess what the next chapter will include ;)
> 
> **Thanks for reading! <3**


	3. Inductance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The king had deliberately taken his time with his leggings, his fingers toying with the laces to draw out the process. He saw Legolas squirm awkwardly as he strained to see the king remove his leggings.
> 
> Eventually the prince made to sit up, reaching out, “Ada…” he moaned. The king batted his hands away.
> 
> “Not nice to be teased, is it?” he drawled, fixing his son with a smouldering glare.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hello**
> 
> First of all, apologies. I was meant to update this sooner, but my muses got tangled and this took a back seat for a day or two :)  
> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos and comments, it is always much appreciated. If you have the time and the inclination, I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter and the series as a whole. 
> 
> Yeah, so this is three thousand-ish words of unashamed sexy-times :) Not even sorry.
> 
> **x**

Legolas was loath to let go of his father’s hand as they exited the library, but the king gently extracted his hand while they were in public, motioning for his son to follow him. The prince trailed behind the king, barely able to keep the grin off of his face as they passed elves going about their day. It took much longer than the prince would have liked to wind their way through the king’s halls and to his private chambers. Every so often, the prince would brush his fingers over the king’s as they walked, unwilling to be parted from his father’s touch for a second. 

When they eventually reached the king’s chambers, Legolas darted through the door and turned to his father, waiting for the king to slip in and lock the door. The prince had grown nervous. Even though this was exactly what he had craved for years, he became shy at the thought of what they were about to do. Thranduil turned from the now securely locked door to face his son. The prince was gazing at him with wider-than-normal eyes and had begun to fiddle with the hem of his tunic. 

“Av-‘osto, ‘Las,” the king said, moving to stand in front of his son. Legolas smiled weakly, before reaching out for his father. The king came forward into his son’s arms without hesitation. 

“No matter what I may have insinuated, Ada, I have not done anything like this since the night that you sent me away,” the prince confessed, burying his head into his father’s neck and taking a deep breath of the scent of the king. It calmed him. Thranduil held his son tightly for a few moments, stroking the prince’s back. 

“I will take care of you, melethron,” Thranduil breathed against the pointy shell of Legolas’ ear. The prince shivered, but collected himself enough to place a tiny, chaste kiss to his base of his father’s neck. Thranduil moaned at the deliciousness of it and pulled Legolas tighter to his body. The prince, encouraged, kissed the spot again, this time sucking gently on his father’s pristine alabaster skin. The king growled lowly, and began to work his hands down the front of Legolas’ tunic, parting the material and shoving it from his son’s shoulders. The prince shook the fabric from his arms, before reaching up to grasp the king’s cheeks, standing on his toes to reach his mouth with his own. 

Thranduil indulged Legolas for a few moments, capturing his son’s lips with his own and expertly slipping his tongue into the wet heat of his son’s mouth. Legolas sagged against Thranduil, the familiar yet forbidden taste of his father causing his mind to blank out. The king used his son’s distraction to his advantage, forcing him backwards to the foot of the bed before almost throwing Legolas back, tossing him onto the expanse of silken quilts and pillows on his bed. 

The prince was startled for a second, his lips scandalously swollen from the greedy kisses of his father and the skin of his face blushed pink. Thranduil eyed the elf now spread across his bed as a hungry wolf would watch a deer, before he moved to divest the prince of his boots, flinging them haphazardly to the floor. Legolas’ pulse skyrocketed as he pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch his father. Once the king had finished with the prince’s boots, he started to undress himself. Legolas’ mouth went dry and his chest heaved as he watched the most lovely being on Arda strip right in front of him. 

“You- you are very beautiful, Ada,” the prince said nervously, his own nakedness now feeling insufficient next to his father’s beauty. The king merely smiled at the young prince, before flinging off his long robe and making quick work of undoing his heavy tunic. The king was well built, tall even by elven standards. His mastery of the sword dictated that his muscles were large and powerful, all covered in glowing, pale skin. Left bare from the waist up, the king toed out of his own boots, never taking his eyes off of the prince’s. Legolas swallowed hard as his father’s hands moved to the ties of his velvet leggings. He worked deftly, flicking the cords over one another smoothly. The prone prince shifted uncomfortably, his own leggings constricting his swollen cock unpleasantly. 

The king had deliberately taken his time with his leggings, his fingers toying with the laces to draw out the process. He saw Legolas squirm awkwardly as he strained to see the king remove his leggings.

Eventually the prince made to sit up, reaching out, “Ada…” he moaned. The king batted his hands away.

“Not nice to be teased, is it?” he drawled, fixing his son with a smouldering glare. The prince’s eyes pleaded with his father before he leaned back once more, though his hands now strayed to himself, undoing the ties on his leggings clumsily. 

“Legolas,” the king warned, but the prince paid no mind to his father’s warning and freed his aching cock from the confines of his leggings with a salacious moan that made his father’s cock twitch. The prince grasped himself, stroking slowly before eyeing his father again. The king sucked in a large lungful of air through his nose, his teeth clenched together as he watched his son touch himself. 

“Ada…” the prince moaned once more, this time imagining it was his father’s hand on his aching cock, not his own. The king reached forwards, grabbing the bottom of the prince’s leggings and pulling them off of his son in one fluid movement. Legolas yelped in surprise, his hand still grasping his member. Thranduil smirked before slipping his hands inside the waistband of his own leggings and pushing them down his hips, exposing all of himself to his son. Legolas’ hand stilled on his cock as he became enthralled by the sight of his naked father. He was captivated by how the flickering light of the candles, which lit his chambers, caressed the well-defined muscles of his chest and stomach. The prince could do nothing but marvel that such a beautiful creature could ever want him. 

“You are the loveliest being I have ever seen, Ada,” Legolas whispered reverently, sure that he was embarrassing himself but unable to stop. The king held his son’s awe-struck gaze as he slid onto the bed, crawling over the prince. He paused when he came level with Legolas’ face, the ends of his white hair tickling the prince’s chest. 

“You are just as lovely, melethron,” he said huskily, leaning down to press a kiss to Legolas’ forehead. The prince closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of such an innocent act. Yet, he wanted more, he craved it. He grasped his father behind the neck and pulled him down to his lips. The king growled into his son’s mouth and pinned the prince to his bed, deepening the kiss. This was not enough for the young prince, who bucked his hips up against his father, causing their erections to brush against one another. Legolas gasped and tried to repeat the motion desperately. The king had other plans and stilled his son’s hips with a strong hand.

“Slowly, ‘Las,” he purred, nuzzling his cheek against his son’s, “I want to explore every inch of you.” 

Legolas’ mouth hung open as he panted breathlessly and ran his hands down his father’s chest, over his tense stomach and grasped the king’s cock in his hand. Thranduil was taken by surprise at such a bold move and his hips stuttered into his son’s touch.

“We have eternity to explore one another, Ada. I have waited far too long for this to be expected to endure slow torture,” the prince gasped, working his wrist so as to pleasure the king hovering above him. Thranduil’s eyes rolled back and he let out a sensual moan as the prince worked him. 

“Please, Ada, please take me,” Legolas begged, stilling his hand and pulling his father’s hips down onto his and parting his legs so that the king fit perfectly between them. Thranduil gazed down at his son and allowed the prince to grind their erections together, gaining the sweet friction that they both craved. Legolas moaned and pulled the king’s mouth to his in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

“Please!” Legolas gasped out against the king’s lips, rolling his hips seductively. The king pulled away from his son carefully, ignoring the prince’s protests. 

“Legolas, your first experience will not be a quick, sloppy fuck,” the king’s voice commanded, causing a visible shiver to run through Legolas at the use of such a crass word. He slipped off of his son and dismounted the bed, moving swiftly to a chest of drawers at the side of his bedchamber.

“Ada!” the prince protested, flustered at being left alone, hard and wanting.

“Be patient, melethron,” Thranduil ordered, eventually finding the vial of oil he was looking for before continuing, “I will not torture you needlessly, ‘Las, but you must trust me.” Thranduil was barely keeping his lust for the prince in check. There would be countless times that they could completely ravage one another, but this first time, Legolas’ first time, needed to be handled correctly.

Legolas nodded earnestly as his father stalked back to the bed and slid over the silken sheets to his son. 

“Lie back,” the king commanded once more and Legolas did as he was bid. Thranduil smiled and ran his hand over the prince’s chest, gently grazing one of his nipples. Legolas tensed momentarily, but soon relaxed under his father’s ministrations. The king positioned himself between the prince’s legs once more, his strong hands kneading down his son’s body, fluttering over his hips and down to the strong thighs on either side of him. Satisfied with the unrestrained noises falling out of the prince’s mouth, Thranduil turned his attention to Legolas’ swollen cock. 

The king leaned down, his breath ghosting over the engorged flesh. He looked upwards decadently; his son’s eyes were wide, taking in every movement the king made. Thranduil smirked lasciviously before grasping Legolas’ aching cock at its base and swallowing his entire length down his throat in one, graceful movement. Legolas let out a startled yelp as he was engulfed in the tight, wet heat of his father’s mouth and his hips thrust forwards, demanding more. 

Legolas couldn’t form coherent sentences in his mind, never mind in speech and the only words that passed his lips were the repeated exclamations of ‘Ada!’ and ‘Yes!’. He was sure he was being too loud, but he couldn’t restrain himself. 

Legolas then made the mistake of looking downwards, to where his father’s lips were stretched around his aching cock. To see the king, his own father, performing such an incredibly depraved act on him sent the prince careening off the edge of pleasure and he spilled himself unwillingly straight into his father’s mouth. Legolas was unaware of anything for a few minutes, his lithe frame trembling with the force of his release. When he eventually looked down again, his father was wearing the smuggest smirk the prince had ever seen.

“Ada,” the prince gasped, “I-I’m sorry, I-”

He was cut off as the king dragged himself up over the spent prince’s body and smashed their lips together, his tongue forcing its way inside his son’s mouth. Legolas tasted himself mixed in with the taste of his father, and he lost himself in the incredible moment they were sharing.

The king pulled back after a long moment of devouring his son’s mouth, panting as he said, “Don’t apologise, ‘Las, I will make you come more than once tonight,”

The prince shuddered and reached up to stroke a shaky hand over his father’s cheek. The king leaned in to his son’s palm, placing a gentle kiss on the delicate skin before rolling his hips against his son’s. The prince cried out at the over-stimulation and clutched at his father. Thranduil continued moving against his son, grinding his stiff cock against his son’s flagging erection until Legolas’ member began to fill out once more. Thranduil shut his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly as the lust he felt took hold of him. That he could make his son hard again so quickly after he had come so thoroughly made the king’s blood boil with the repressed need to make the elf his and his alone. He had to call on all of his restraint to not simply toss Legolas onto his stomach and fuck him from behind until they both came. This urge was made even more difficult to resist when the prince’s voice pulled the king from his musings.

“Let me take you in my mouth, Ada,” Legolas gasped, his eyes glazed and his pupils blown wide, “Let me taste you.”

Thranduil stopped grinding against his son, his hips stuttering to a stop at the request. Images of Legolas taking his cock into his mouth invaded the king’s mind; how he’d look with his lips stretched and his mouth full. Thranduil shook his head.

“Next time, ‘Las,” the king managed through gritted teeth, “I can not restrain myself any longer.”

The prince watched; enthralled as his father leaned over him and reached for the vial of oil he’d tossed on to the bed next to them. The king slicked up the fingers of one hand, before snaking his hand between their bodies. Legolas’ mouth dropped open into a sweet ‘o’ shape at the unfamiliar feeling of one of his father’s fingers circling his entrance. 

“Look at me,” Thranduil breathed when his son shut his eyes. Legolas obeyed, holding his father’s stare as the king’s oiled finger slipped inside of him. He arched at the uncomfortable feeling, his face contorting. Slowly, though, as his father’s finger worked inside of him, the prince relaxed. The stretch started to feel good, it started to feel as though he’d been empty all these years and had not known it. Legolas gasped once more as his father slipped a second finger into his body. While it burned at first, it quickly became a sweet, torturous pleasure that had Legolas writhing beneath his father. 

Thranduil was visibly shaking as he carefully eased a third finger into his son’s pliant body. The sweet torture of it was driving the king mad, but he would not yield to the urge to shamelessly rut into his son at the expense of his precious leaf. Said leaf was quickly growing impatient. He gripped his father’s hips and dug his fingers in to the flesh before pulling Thranduil on top of himself, displacing the king’s fingers. Thranduil sighed as their throbbing erections nestled next to each other once more. 

“Enough, enough,” Legolas moaned and Thranduil rested his forehead against his son’s. The king took a deep breath before reaching down and positioning the blunt head of his cock at his son’s oiled entrance. He hesitated. 

Legolas pulled back from his father slightly at the pause and ran his hand over his father’s cheek and into his white-gold hair, burying his fingers in it. 

“What are you thinking?” the prince whispered. Thranduil shuddered.

“I am thinking how wrong this is supposed to be, that I am about to do this with my son. I am thinking about how wrong it is supposed to feel,”

Legolas sighed out a great breath, before wriggling down, pressing the head of Thranduil’s cock tighter against his puckered entrance. The king let out a strangled cry.

“And yet, it does not,” the prince finished his father’s thought, “It feels as though this is how it was always meant to be.”

Thranduil looked down into his son’s eyes then and he saw an endless expanse of clear, radiant blue. He could lose himself forever in those eyes.

Though Legolas had been prepared well, the stretch of his father’s thick cock took his breath away and he gritted his teeth at the intrusion. The prince clawed at the king’s shoulders as his father sunk in to him gradually, inch by inch, until he was fully seated within his son’s tight heat. 

“Legolas,” Thranduil moaned when he’d ceased moving. It was a sensual rasp that the prince would never forget in all the days of his long life. Legolas hummed in response and canted his hips, causing his father to slide inside of him. The glorious pull of his father’s cock sent the prince’s mind spinning and all he could feel was a ravenous hunger swell within him. This was fuelled by the kiss that Thranduil claimed upon his mouth. It was desperate and hot and finally broke the banks of the desperate current of lust that ran under the surface. 

They were frantic all too soon, both clutching at one another and moving against each other, the connection of their bodies not enough. Legolas had never felt so utterly alive, his father’s strong thrusts causing a delirium in his body along with his mind. Thranduil could not get enough, could not get close enough. He tried to soften his movements, to make love to the prince gently, but he simply could not. There were too many repressed emotions and suppressed desires for the king to control and he filled his son on every stroke with an avid force. The prince seemed to be enjoying it, though; by the way he was writhing and gasping. 

The king could feel his impending orgasm approach, he could feel it tug at the base of his spine and prick the hairs on the back of his neck. Panting and half-delirious, the king pushed up onto a forearm to grip Legolas cock. He stroked his son roughly, without mercy. The prince cried out against the king’s lips as Thranduil angled his hips to brush against Legolas’ prostate for the first time. The prince’s entire body tensed as his father began a passionate staccato rhythm into his clenching body, hitting that sweet spot each time.

“Ada,” Legolas moaned, gasping out a warning that he was close. It was the word that sent Thranduil over the edge. That endearment said in that debauched tone. That word said in the heat of forbidden lovemaking. That word that chased away all the darkness that had been festering within the king’s fëa. Legolas soon followed his father, coming thickly between them as he felt the hot seed of the king envelop him.  
The next coherent thought either of them had was while lying next to one another, Legolas half atop his father and his face buried in the crook of the king’s neck. 

“Ada?” the prince rasped after a long while, their bodies’ still coming down from the high. 

“Yes, ion nín?” Thranduil smiled, playing with a strand of the prince’s gleaming hair. Legolas looked up at his father.

“Can we… can we perhaps move to your bath chamber?”

The king looked down at his son. He was enjoying the wonderful afterglow and felt no compulsion to move. He raised a questioning eyebrow. The prince blushed and averted his eyes.

“I… I’ve had many fantasies of bathing with you, Ada, ever since I walked in on you all those years ago,” Legolas admitted bashfully.

The king grinned wolfishly, “How can I deny one of your fantasies, ion?”

Legolas smiled shyly and rolled further atop his king, pressing his already half-hard arousal against his father’s thigh. The king’s smile faltered as he realised his son was ready for more. 

“Gi melin-” the prince whispered, but was cut off as he father growled and captured his lips, his own arousal twitching into life at the mere thought of his son wet, panting and riding his cock. The prince squeaked in surprise as he was bodily lifted from the king’s bed and carried to his bath chamber.

“Gi melin, ‘Las,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ion = Son  
> Adar/Ada = Father/Dad  
> Av-‘osto = Don’t be afraid  
> Melethron = Lover (male)  
> Arda = The name given to earth  
> Fëa = Soul/Spirit  
> Gi melin = I love you
> 
> An AU Thrandolas will be along soon. And maybe a muddy one-shot. 
> 
> **Thank you for reading!**


End file.
